The Real Reason Why
by Addicted Archangel
Summary: ONESHOT. Hotch thinks back to the real reason Hailey left him, but doesn't miss her. He's found something better. Hotch/?


**A/N: Oh, I was in such a funny mood tonight..! And THIS is the result! I have no excuses..!**

How many times had he stood by this window, just watching the people go by on the street below? The sun had set hours ago, but the streetlights lit up the pavement, making it "safe" for pedestrians to walk along the street.

He just couldn't bring himself to leave the window. The stars above glistened in the clear April night, making him feel so small and insignificant. The universe was an incredibly vast place. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath; feeling the brisk evening breeze coming in from the slightly opened window beside him.

The mug of tea standing on the window sill had gone cold a long time ago and as he left his looking place the large blue cup where it was. Walking around in the apartment, the dark haired man looked at all the things surrounding him.

The old leather armchair.

The green sofa.

The multitude of bookshelves aligned against one of the walls.

The mess on the coffee table.

The paper coffee cups from Starbucks on the floor by the sofa.

The half-done crossword puzzles.

"_This boy can't concentrate on one thing for more than fifteen minutes..."_

A smile crossed the man's lips as he shuffled over the floor heading for the kitchen. Remembering the mug on the window sill, he sighed, but didn't go back to get it. Opening the fridge, he hoped to find something that was at least close to edible, but that thought failed miserably.

All he could see was a partially eaten cheesecake, a jar of jelly and a piece of pizza that looked like it was ready to walk out the door by itself. There was also a piece of cheese looking like it could pick up a job as a golf green.

Closing the fridge in dismay, the tall, dark haired man sighed at his partner's poor eating habits. He had told the boy a million times that he had to eat properly, but the orders had fallen on deaf ears.

"_If only there was something I could tell him that made him realize that you can't survive on coffee and cashews..."_

The man shook his head slowly, still smiling, as he turned around, moving towards the bathroom. Moving as silently as he could past the bedroom where his sweet boy was still sleeping, snuggled up in his blue satin sheets.

Carefully, he slid the white wooden door open and slipped into the bathroom. He needed to clean himself up a bit after his nightly escapades. Running water nearly scalding hot in the sink, the now very tired man splashed it on his face, feeling the stubble beginning to work its way out from his already slightly rugged face.

Running his hands through his dark hair, he looked at himself in the mirror. The smile resting on his lips was one of happiness, content and pride. He had finally gotten to the place in his life where he wanted to be.

"_Hailey... She never did understand me... She always thought..."_

Hotch shook his head as he looked at himself in the mirror. His wife never understood. He told her, but she never understood. She thought he was sick, twisted – perverted even. It had broken the man's heart to see her go. He never told anyone that _this_ was the reason. He simply stuck to the story that she left him because he was absent too much on the count of work.

It was a much more acceptable story.

Turning off the water, he heard a voice calling him from inside the bedroom.

"Aaron?"

Hotch shook the drops of water from his face and walked out into the hallway. "Yes, sir?"

"You need to come in here now."

Straightening himself, Hotch opened the door into the bedroom but stopped in the doorway.

He sat on the side of the bed, arms crossed; looking at the man who had almost entered the room. "Why aren't you in bed?" A stern look on his face.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just..."

"Excuses."

"I'm sorry..."

"Oh, just be quiet. Come here." Motioning Hotch to approach him, the man pointed to the floor before him.

Hotch kneeled, bending his head as he felt a hand caress his dark curls.

"You are a good boy, Aaron."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, _up_!"

Hotch rose and crawled into the already warm bed. The garter belt was chafing the skin around his waist, but that was the way he liked it. The stay-ups had a few runs in them, but that didn't bother him. Neither did it bother his master.

"Turn over."

Obliging, Hotch rolled over onto his stomach. The familiar clinking noises of the handcuffs made him smile. It had been worth every moment of wait.

Click. Click.

"Good boy."


End file.
